


knocking on hell's door

by springsunset



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Dark Magic, Demons, Grief, M/M, Manipulation, MinWon are not involved romantically, Nail Removal, References to Depression, Torture, Witchcraft, mentions of insomnia, sorcery, there are a couple of disturbing scenes at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 15:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16704883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsunset/pseuds/springsunset
Summary: When Wonwoo’s husband dies, a stranger comes into Wonwoo’s life. But that is just the beginning.





	knocking on hell's door

**Author's Note:**

> for the SpookySVT2018 fic exchange!!!!
> 
> so this is a mess and there are violent scenes towards the end... so. yeah. take it as a warning!! if you're not comfortable with fictionalized gore... don't read it ouo or you can just skip it
> 
> this is also an unbeta-ed, very crammed work.... so apologies for the incoherence on some parts

“Honey, I have to go,” Jisoo says as he walks towards the door, suitcase on his right hand, a to-go tumbler on his left. It’s 6:45 a.m. in the morning, and he has to be at work in fifteen minutes. Luckily, their apartment is located just a few meters away from Jisoo’s workplace. It had been a compromise they agreed on when they got married. 

“Wait,” Wonwoo proceeds to the door and gives Jisoo a quick peck on the lips. “Give me a call like maybe an hour before you get home. I want to prepare something for you.” 

Jisoo laughs and blushes. “Wow. Jeon Wonwoo. You’re upping your game.” Wonwoo had never given Jisoo any surprise of the sort. No hidden letters, no surprise balloons; until today. 

Wonwoo smiles shyly at his husband. “I just want to give you something special, that’s all.”

Jisoo smiles and gently caresses Wonwoo’s cheek. “I’m so lucky I married you. I’ll call you later!” 

Wonwoo holds Joshua’s right hand and kisses it. “See you in a while.” 

Wonwoo sits on the chair by the breakfast table and grabs the morning paper. He spends a few minutes reading the article enclosed with the headline, which discusses the dire economic situation in Korea and the current tension with Japan, and sighs when he finishes it. He flips through some of the other pages, finding most of the other articles too technical or disinteresting. He later stumbles upon a small box on the entertainment and occult section, a section apparently unique only to that newspaper. The article enclosed within the box says a Satanist lair had been discovered within their city. The article has a black and white image attached at the bottom; there are candles that looked like they were just recently lit, along with some jars containing what seemed to be organs. There are also dolls of various shapes and sizes, with needles pricked on every single one. 

Witchcraft, perhaps. Or Satanism. 

But Wonwoo takes none of it, because to him, witchcraft is just a myth, some cultist activity. Because Satan is not real, and so is the Christian notion of God. 

All those are just myths to make humans become submissive creatures. 

Yet his husband, Jisoo, is one of the most religious people he had ever met. Every night before he goes to sleep, Jisoo reads the Bible, and he offers prayers to God and to the saints in the morning and in the evening. Wonwoo respects his beliefs, and Jisoo respects Wonwoo’s, and religion is almost always out of their discussion. It’s a harmonious relationship between a Christian and an atheist. 

Wonwoo then folds the morning paper and goes to their bed room. He grabs his copy of Han Kang’s The Vegetarian from their small table by the window, and then settles on his bed. It’s his second time reading this book, the first time being a couple of years ago. This is because for some reason, he wants to immerse himself in fictional surrealism and sexuality again, and no book has brought the same sensation to him as The Vegetarian. He leans his back against their bed, and spends two hours just reading through the book. 

In just two hours, he’s already halfway. 

He glances at the clock, and it’s already 10:00 a.m. He closes his book and then goes towards his desk. He grabs his MacBook from the drawer, and opens it to show a Word file with over 20 pages. He plans to move forward with the manuscript for the novel he has been working on for three months. 

He wants his work to take on the form of fictional surrealism, incorporating elements of dreams and alternate realities. It’s been his dream to be an author with his own distinct flavor; not ‘another Murakami’, or ‘another Han Kang’, but as Jeon Wonwoo. 

However, he has been stuck on writing a chapter for two weeks, with no resolution whatsoever on the outcome for that specific chapter. He has been in agony due to this lack of progress, with him suffering from chronic migraines. Some symptoms of insomnia have also been showing lately, but he hasn’t told Jisoo about it. 

He tries to type, but immediately deletes the sentence he has just constructed, because he felt that the words don’t really emit the right vibe. He pauses, thinks about his story, and then proceeds to write again. This time, the words and their connections seem to make sense to Wonwoo, and he keeps on writing more and more, until he forms a paragraph.

He stops to read through what he has written, only to feel frustrated because the words and the sentences aren’t as impactful as he thought. In frustration, he burrows his face in his hands and closes his MacBook, because he’s beginning to feel like he’s just going to punish himself if he forces himself to write. He puts his laptop back to the drawer, and then goes to the kitchen.

He cooks himself two packs of ramyeon with two eggs. He stirs them gently and turns the stove off when the texture of the noodles changes to avoid overcooking them. He then walks to the living room and turns on the television, feeling a bit giddy because the variety show he has been watching regularly just started airing. 

He finishes his ramyeon five minutes later and settles the pot on the small coffee table in front of him. He puts a small note in his head that he’ll just wash them later on, when the show finishes airing. 

With the pillow attached to his body, he diligently watches the show, nothing else but the sound of his laughter accompanying the noise coming from the television. The show wraps up an hour later, with Wonwoo amused at the turnout of the episode. Fueled by a lack of interest on the shows on the other channels, he switches off the television and settles the remote control on the coffee table. 

He grabs the pot he left on the table earlier and proceeds to the kitchen to wash his dishes. After drying the pot and the utensils, he looks towards the cupboard, where he kept all the ingredients for the pasta dish he’s going to be cooking for him and Jisoo for dinner. 

It’s just a simple tomato pasta dish, one he learned how to make from a website on the Internet. The recipe’s very easy; after boiling the noodles, he just has to saute crushed garlic and onion slices, a few chops of tomato, some grilled beef, a bit of tomato sauce, and some seasoning for flavor. He already had a note with the recipe printed on it folded inside his pocket, so he won’t have to consult his phone while cooking. 

Right after he settles some of the ingredients near the stove, he hears his phone ring. 

“Oh, Jisoo is coming home early,” he says to himself. He feels a bit nervous because Jisoo might end up coming home too early, that his surprise dinner for him may get spoiled. He walks towards the sofa to where his phone is and picks it up. He glances towards the caller ID, and finds it strange to see that it is not Jisoo’s number; rather, it’s coming from an unidentified caller. Wonwoo answers the call anyway, his suspicions growing as the seconds pass. 

“Hello?” 

The background noise is too loud, and he could hear people shouting. Men, primarily. “Is this Mister Jeon Wonwoo, the husband of Mister Hong Jisoo?” 

The caller’s voice is deep and rough, and it seems like it belongs to an older man, probably in his 50s. Wonwoo becomes even more suspicious, because the voice sounds serious. “Yes, speaking.” 

“This is the Chief Superintendent of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. We regretfully inform you that your husband is dead.” 

 

Wonwoo’s knees give out and he collapses onto the floor, his face as pale as a ghost. The Chief Superintendent, who introduced himself as Lee Myungho, calmly explains what happened; on his way to a book store, apparently, Jisoo crossed the street at a green light, but a truck lost control of its brakes and hit Jisoo, effectively killing the boy. He also explains that the remains of his husband are confined in the mortuary of the Seoul Doctors’ Hospital, and that his presence is needed there as soon as possible. 

The man’s voice is solemn, but Wonwoo maintains a quizzical look on his face, as if he did not understand any word that the man has just said. 

He does not respond immediately; instead, he takes a few deep breaths. The police officer hears his huffs through the phone call. 

“Mr. Jeon, are you okay? Can you come to the hospital today?” 

“I… I…” He can’t bring himself to say anything, his voice quivering for the first time ever in his life. He lost his parents to a car accident when he was young, yet the pain of losing another loved one still hurt Wonwoo as if it was a new wound. He doesn’t know what to think, or say, or feel. He can’t even move. 

“Would you like us to send a car to your home? We’re very sorry, but your presence is very much needed here as Hong Jisoo’s legal guardian,” the man says, his voice growing softer.

“P-please. Um… I… I live in 134-1 Myeongdong… I’ll wait here…” 

“Okay, Mr. Jeon. We’ll make it to your area in ten minutes.” The man hangs up, and Wonwoo has his mouth gaped open at the sound of dial tone. Still on the floor, he puts his phone above his knee, and just stares at the tiles in front of him. It feels too unreal, too impossible to be true. Is he dreaming? If he is, he just wants to wake up from this nightmare now, because things are not making sense. 

Hong Jisoo can’t be dead. No way. 

He takes several deep breaths, and he slaps and hits himself repeatedly, in his attempt to wake himself up from a dream. But his fears start settling in when he hears the sound of the siren from outside their home. 

A knock arrives at their door. 

“Mr. Jeon Wonwoo? We are officers Kim Mingyu and Choi Seungcheol from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Department. We’ve been sent here to pick you up.” It’s a different set of people this time, the voice of the one speaking a bit younger than the man he talked to on the phone. 

He tries to stand up; his knees are still a bit weak, but he clings to the sofa beside him for support. He takes his phone and walks to the door with slow steps. 

He is greeted by the presence of two young police officers, one a bit taller than the other. They have smiles, gentle smiles, on their faces, yet the overall mood is still a bit solemn. 

“Um… before we go to the hospital, we were instructed to retrieve a copy of Mr. Hong Jisoo’s birth certificate and your marriage certificate. Is that okay?” the taller of the two says. 

Wonwoo nods mindlessly. “They’re upstairs… Wait…” He turns his back from the two officers and takes a small step towards them. However, he suddenly loses his balance; his vision fades to black, and next thing he knows, he feels his body thud on the floor. 

“Oh fuck!” the cop named Seungcheol exclaims. “Mingyu, hurry, call an ambulance!” The taller cop immediately scrambles for his phone and dials the emergency number. 

“This is the Seoul Emergency Center. What is your emergency?” a female voice says through the phone. 

“Hello. Uh… we are calling from 134-1 Myeongdong. A man collapsed at his home, and he has to be brought to the hospital right away. Also… is it possible to bring him to Seoul Doctors’ Hospital?” 

The emergency responder presses a few keys on her computer. “Yes, sir. In fact that’s the closest hospital where he can be accommodated. We’ll be sending an ambulance, please expect arrival in about five minutes.” 

Mingyu nods. “Thank you.” He hangs up from the call. 

“Hey, let’s lift him to the sofa, at least,” the tall cop named Mingyu tells Seungcheol. Wonwoo remains unconscious, his breathing still heavy. “I’ll lift him by the shoulders. Can you carry his feet?” 

“Okay.” 

The two cops heave the collapsed Wonwoo into the sofa in the living room, and wait for the arrival of the ambulance. After three minutes of waiting, they hear the siren from the vehicle. 

“He’s inside,” Mingyu says as he greets the medics. 

“May I ask what your relationship with him is?” asks one of the medics. 

“Uh… we’re actually police officers,” he says as he points his finger towards himself and Seungcheol. “His husband passed away earlier in an accident and we were tasked to bring him to the hospital, but he passed out when we came to get him…” Mingyu’s voice trails off. 

“Poor thing,” the medic comments. He then gestures for the staff to bring in a stretcher. They carefully move Wonwoo into the stretcher and then transfer him into a bed. They push the bed upwards on the inclination of the ambulance.

“Um… one of you has to come with us. It’s mandatory, sorry,” the medic says, his gaze switching between Mingyu and Seungcheol. 

“I’ll go.” Mingyu moves to face Seungcheol. “Hyung, just drive straight to the hospital. I’ll watch this guy for now. If you see Sir Lee, just tell him what happened.” 

Seungcheol nods. “Copy. See you there.” 

 

The entire ride only takes place for less than five minutes, since the roads are wide and the cars are few. The head medic injects an IV bag into Wonwoo’s vein. The young man slightly grimaces in pain, yet he remains unconscious. 

“We’re here,” the head medic says as one of the staff opens the door. They move Wonwoo quickly out of the vehicle and bring him into the emergency room. 

The doctors check his vitals, and the nurses take down all the useful information. Wonwoo has very low blood pressure and seems to be in severe fatigue. 

“Move him to one of the rooms in the west wing. He’ll likely regain consciousness within the day,” one of the doctors say. 

“Yes, doc,” the nurses answer collectively. They proceed to carefully transport the hospital stretcher down the wing. 

Mingyu watches Wonwoo’s bed move away, and catches the attention of one of the nurses who jolted down Wonwoo’s patient data. “Um, hi. What’s happening?”

“We’ll be moving him into a private room since he is no longer in an emergency state. The doctor says it’s likely for him to regain consciousness today,” the nurse answers. She then comes into some sort of realization upon seeing the badge on Mingyu’s chest. “Oh! Are you the police officer who arrived with him? Will you be staying here at the hospital all day?” 

Mingyu nods. “Yes, I am.” The nurse nods back. “If it’s fine with you, can you be his legal guardian at least for the day?” 

Mingyu takes a quick glimpse at the young man being transported into one of the private rooms; he had a peaceful expression on his face, as if he did not just lose a loved one.

“I can do that, yes. Plus we have to retrieve some important documents from him regarding his husband’s death.” 

“Ah, yes,” the nurse sighs. “I’ll take you to his room.” 

“Thank you.” 

The nurse slowly opens the door, and Wonwoo is already settled on the bed. “I’ll leave you here, sir,” the nurse says as she closed the door. 

“Thank you.” Mingyu takes a seat on the chair just beside Wonwoo’s bed. He takes his cellphone, checks his inbox, and sends a text to his superior. 

Sir, Mr. Jeon is already at the hospital but he’s still unconscious. He’s in a private room. We weren’t able to get the documents because he collapsed when we arrived. 

He locks his phone and places it on his lap. A few seconds later, he hears it ping. 

Okay. Let me know when he’s awake. 

He sends a quick Yes, sir. and then puts his phone inside the pocket of his vest. He stays still, and fixates his gaze on the white wall in front of him. Time and again he would look at the man sleeping peacefully next to him, hoping that he would regain consciousness as soon as possible. Yet at the same time, he’s quite nervous for this person and the reality he has to face. 

After an hour of waiting, Wonwoo’s finger flinches. His eyelids also flutter.

Mingyu, who had been feeling sleepy, jolts up from his seat and pushes the intercom to call the attention of the hospital staff. 

“Hello, I’m calling from Room 5-2. The patient seems to be awake already,” Mingyu says calmly. 

Two nurses and a doctor enter the room and check Wonwoo’s condition. The young man’s eyes are slowly adjusting to the light, but he hasn’t spoken a word yet. Slowly, his eyes become accustomed to the environment, and then settles his vision on an unidentified man seated on his right side. His lips move a little, but Mingyu stays seated on his chair. 

“Who are you?” Wonwoo asks weakly, with his eyes fixated on Mingyu. 

“Ah, he was the police officer who took you here, sir,” the nurse answers. Wonwoo just blinks. 

“How are you feeling, Wonwoo?” the doctor asks after a few seconds. 

“What happened?” Wonwoo feels like his mind is in the clouds, and he can’t really tell if he’s awake or not. 

“You fainted at your home around two hours ago when the cops came, when you received news of your husband’s death,” the doctor answers in a somber tone, careful not to surprise Wonwoo too much. 

“My… my husband’s death?” Wonwoo asks, his eyes opening more and more. Mingyu looks towards him, slightly amazed and surprised that Wonwoo seemed to have no memory of what happened to him two hours ago. 

“Yes, Wonwoo…” 

Wonwoo puts his left hand over his mouth in surprise. His right hand clenches the blanket with a tight grip, too tight that the nurse becomes worried that the blanket might get torn apart. Tears start to form in Wonwoo’s eyes, and he takes a few deep breaths as the events from earlier start to become clearer in Wonwoo’s head; the dinner preps, the phone call, the cops. 

“Wh… where is he?” Wonwoo asks, his voice still quivering. 

“He’s in the mortuary now, Wonwoo.” 

“I want to see him,” Wonwoo says as his sits up on his bed. He tries to pull himself to stand, yet he’s still too weak for that. 

“Will you be okay?” the doctor asks. “I can handle it,” Wonwoo answers firmly. 

“Bring him a wheelchair,” the doctor says to one of the nurses. She quickly goes out of the room and returns with one of the wheelchairs stationed in the hall. 

Mingyu, who has been quite lost in the situation, stands up and assists the nurses in bringing Wonwoo to the chair. “You can hold on to my shoulder,” Mingyu says when he notices the hesitation in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo answers quietly.

They ride the elevator and head to the ground floor. They then proceed towards the morgue. Wonwoo’s pulse quickens by the second, although he stays quiet. His grip on his knee, however, tells otherwise. 

They enter the room, and the cold temperature sends shivers down Wonwoo’s spine. He’s wearing a thin hospital gown, and he forgot to bring his blanket with him. One of the dieners is keeping a close watch on one of the corpses laid on the tables. Wonwoo catches the familiar shade of brown hair he has known for almost five years in his life, and he purses his lips and feels the bile rising up his throat. He suppresses it and clenches his fists.

Since he has also worked in grief centers before, Mingyu knows how much shock a person would experience if he/she sees a loved one who passed away for the first time; and so Mingyu reaches for Wonwoo’s right shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze. Wonwoo’s shoulders are really tense; the young man on the wheelchair is surprised to feel a comforting touch from a stranger. He slowly relaxes his shoulders and takes a deep breath. 

They get closer to the table and Wonwoo begins to see Jisoo’s face, and it seemed to him like his lover is just in deep sleep. His face has been fully contoured and his lips wore a shade close to nude pink. He stares at him and waits, as if his eyelids are going to flutter any moment soon, and he would hear Jisoo’s sweet, sweet voice again. Unconsciously, his hand reaches out to Jisoo so that he could wake him up, but the diener stops him from doing so. 

“I’m sorry, sir. You might damage the body,” the diener says calmly. Wonwoo withdraws his hand slowly, his face in a daze, as if he just dissociated from his body. He thn e realizes that what lies in front of him is nothing else but a cadaver, with all blood and organs removed from the flesh. His shoulders start to shake and the hairs on his body begin to raise. Unable to withhold his emotions any longer, his mouth contorts and he lets out a loud, ear-piercing wail that surprises everyone inside the room. It’s the first time Wonwoo has cried like this in his life; seeing his husband’s dead body on the table just unwinds everything that had been lying dormant inside of him. 

“Let’s leave him be, gentlemen,” the diener says as he walked closer towards them. 

Mingyu watches Wonwoo, with his head dipped into his hands, as the young man let out silent cries. His facade disappears when they close the door. 

 

The wake takes place at Wonwoo and Jisoo’s home two days later. It’s an intimate gathering of Jisoo’s friends and family. Jisoo’s mother arrives on the first day, her eyes swollen and her body a bit frail. Wonwoo hugs her tightly when he sees her by their doorstep. 

“Our poor Jisoo,” she cries as she buries her fingers on Wonwoo’s back. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, he just hugs his mother-in-law tight and comforts her small back. She has gotten so much thinner compared to when he hugged her last, and this might be because of the stress brought by her only son’s death. Wonwoo is amazed that she was able to make it all the way from Los Angeles to Seoul, her resolve to see her son the last time as resilient as gold.

He takes her to a chair, and narrates what transpired on the day Jisoo died, his mother-in-law’s face ripe with horror as she took in the details of her son’s untimely death. 

“What happened to the truck driver?” She asks, her voice firmer, with a hint of anger. 

“He died during the accident, too. I plan to work with a lawyer after his funeral so we could file a case against the truck company who employed that son of a bitch,” Wonwoo says with his jaws clenched. He looks at his mother-in-law, the veins in her temple popping, and Wonwoo’s expression grows softer. “Sorry, mother.” 

She reaches out for Wonwoo’s hand. “No, my child. You have every right to be angry.” Wonwoo takes out his other hand and clasps it with his mother-in-law’s. They stay like that for a minute or more, their hands both a bit cold due to the autumn breeze.

“Do you want to see him?” Wonwoo asks, his expression weary. 

“Please.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” 

“Wonwoo, he’s my only son. I have to be okay,” his mother-in-law answers with a bittersweet smile on her face. His heart sinks when he catches a hint of Jisoo’s smile from her expression. 

They walk towards the coffin, Wonwoo’s hand assisting the back of his mother-in-law. The coffin is adorned with pink flowers, the flowers that Jisoo loved the most; when he was alive, they had a vase, and Jisoo was in charge of taking care of the flowers and replacing them when they wilt. Small papers containing handwritten messages in English and in Korean also adorn the young man’s coffin. Jisoo’s mother walks in closer and sees her son’s face, tears coming out of her eyes again. Her knees weaken at the sight of her only child enclosed in a coffin, but Wonwoo catches her and tries to assist her with his arms. 

“Mother, are you okay?” 

Jisoo's mother nods. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

She puts her hands on the glass just above Jisoo’s face, and is in awe at her son’s peaceful and calming expression, even in death. “It’s as if he’s just asleep. He has always looked so peaceful when he’s asleep,” she comments. 

“I know,” Wonwoo replies. 

Wonwoo stands beside Jisoo’s coffin for a few more minutes, before he tells that he should give her something to eat. “Oh right, I forgot I had a stomach,” Jisoo’s mother jokes. Wonwoo smiles at her, still amazed at how she is able to handle such a tragedy when she is miles away from home. 

Wonwoo assists her back to her seat. He goes to the kitchen and grabs a sandwich and a cup of juice. He smiles at the guests he makes eye contact with; some people would stop him for small talk, at how wonderful his husband was when he was alive. Wonwoo thanks them for dropping by and tells them to just approach him if they need anything. 

He goes to the living room, and sees a familiar face near the door. 

It’s the police officer he met a couple of days ago. 

“Hi… sorry, I forgot your name…” 

The police officer laughs a little and smiles. “It’s Mingyu. I see that you have forgotten my name already even though you just saw me yesterday.” Wonwoo smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, my mind hasn’t been in the right place the past few days…” 

Mingyu pats him on the shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

Mingyu had been assigned to Jisoo’s case and was tasked to retrieve some very important papers. He met Wonwoo at the cafe yesterday to get Jisoo’s birth certificate, insurance papers, marriage certificate, identification cards, and all other important documents. 

“Thank you for coming, Mingyu. Do you need anything? Food? Water? Conversation?” Wonwoo says as he leads the officer to his seat. 

Mingyu laughs at Wonwoo’s questions. “No, thank you. I’m good. Just dropped by since I’m in the area.” 

“Still, thank you. You know, Jisoo would’ve liked you if he met you when he was alive. He has always viewed police officers as righteous beings who choose to devote their lives to justice.” Wonwoo says with a warm smile on his face. 

“I think I’ll just end up disappointing him. Police officers are not that great, really,” Mingyu says as he scratches his head. 

“I admire your honesty.” Wonwoo says with his gaze fixated straight ahead. He then takes a deep breath and stands up. “Anyway, I have to mind the guests. Just call my attention if you need anything.” 

“Thanks!” Wonwoo stands up from his seat. Before he could take a step, Mingyu speaks. “Hey, um, if you need anyone to talk to, I’m willing to listen.” 

Wonwoo pauses, quite taken aback by the sudden kind gesture. He looks back at Mingyu, and smiles with his teeth. “Thank you.”

 

The funeral happens on a sunny Sunday morning; this was Jisoo’s favorite time of the week. It’s peaceful, with only a few people in attendance: Wonwoo, Jisoo’s mother, Jisoo’s closest cousins, and a few of Jisoo’s friends from work. Wonwoo respects Jisoo’s mother’s decision to have a Christian funeral, since Jisoo himself is religious anyway. Wonwoo chants the prayers, and even mutters a few words to the air, in the hopes that those words will reach Jisoo. 

The priest then instructs Wonwoo to proceed to the front to read his eulogy. 

Wonwoo holds on to the white sheet of paper in his hands. He takes his glasses from the sleeve of his coat, and carefully places it on the bridge of his nose. He had prepared the eulogy only two days before the funeral. His mind was a complete mess — well, it still is — but Wonwoo hopes he could convey his message properly in front of the people who loved Jisoo the most. 

He clears his throat, and begins with with a full voice. 

“Jisoo was my husband, but to me, he was more than that. He was my best friend, my biggest motivator. He bore my deepest secrets, he knew my biggest fears, he knew me from the inside out. He helped me live my life, from the simplest things, to the more complex ones; he helped me wash the dishes, he scrubbed my back when I take a bath, he made me happy when I am sad, and he made me even more joyful when I’m happy. And when I was lost for words when I was stuck writing my novel, he’d read through what I’ve written, and he’d give me an image so clear that the words begin to write themselves through my fingers. He was the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. And losing him just puts me at such a great loss for words.” 

Jisoo’s mother is already crying. One of Jisoo’s cousins proceed to sit by her side to comfort her as she cried. 

“When I asked if it was okay for us to live in Korea after getting married, he said it’s okay, because he knows I work best in my home country. He continued his job here, even though he said before he wanted to try something new. He remained here because he it would be the best option for both of us, when were still fresh out of marriage. He’s very selfless, but also rational — making decisions seemed so easy when I was with him. It’s because he always had an answer to something. And really, these days, I’m beginning to feel the uncertainty hover over my entire existence, because without Jisoo, everything becomes questionable. The things that used to make sense are beginning to lose their meaning. It’s very unfortunate, really. Because he was my other half. I married him when I was 22, but the moment we said ‘I do’ to each other — no, the moment I told him I loved him, I knew he was my other half.” 

Wonwoo stops speaking for a while, because his chest was pounding so intensely, he felt like it was going to explode. He closes his eyes, then puts the piece of paper on his pocket. He covers his face, runs his hands through his hair, and then proceeds to speak again. 

This time, he has a visibly pained expression on his face, his tears slowly coming out of his eyes. He tries to suppress his tears because he knows that if he starts crying now, the tears won’t stop coming. 

“I… I don’t even know what to say anymore. I feel so lost without him here. It’s unbelievable that when this funeral ends, I’ll be home alone, and he won’t be there anymore to talk to me, to comfort me, to hug me, to kiss me. I don’t know what to do…” 

Wonwoo’s voice quivers. He bites his lips to stop his tears from falling; he bites them so hard, he can taste his own blood. 

“I’m sorry that it wasn’t the best eulogy I could give. Man, I’m a writer, yet I can’t even write or say a proper eulogy. I want to send him off properly, but it just hurts. It’s like my entire body is on fire but I can’t stop the flames from consuming my body. It’s like suffering without an end. I just wish I can hold him again. That’s all.” 

Jisoo’s mother rises from her seat to give her son-in-law a tight hug. Wonwoo proceeds to his seat, and takes many deep breaths to calm down his rapidly pulsating heart. 

Following a short prayer led by Jisoo’s mother, the attendees are then instructed to drop pink flowers into Jisoo’s coffin as a farewell gesture. Wonwoo is the first to go, his eyes still a bit swollen from the tears he shed earlier. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers to the air as he lets go of the pink flower in his hand. Jisoo’s mother and his closest relatives and friends then take their turns in throwing their flowers into the coffin. 

Jisoo’s body is then brought down six feet under, and throughout the entire time, as he listened to the sorrowful cries of Jisoo’s family, he feels like a huge part of him has turned to dust. 

 

Wonwoo heads straight to his home after the funeral. He bids goodbye to his mother-in-law and to Jisoo’s friends and family. 

“Wonwoo, are you going to be okay? Do you want to eat with us?” Jisoo’s mother asks. 

“Uh, actually… I’m not feeling very well so I’ll go home and sleep first. I’ll eat dinner later,” Wonwoo replies. 

“You have to be strong, okay? Remember that even though he’s not in this world anymore, Jisoo will always be with you. Okay?” She reaches out to touch Wonwoo’s cheek and gives him a gentle touch. 

“Thank you mother. I’ll be in touch.” 

He goes straight to his room after opening the door to his home. He sinks into his bed and passes out, not bothering to remove his suit, or his shoes. He’s very exhausted; he hasn’t slept for four straight days.  
He sleeps very deeply; perhaps it is the deepest sleep he has ever had in his life. 

When he wakes up, it’s already the afternoon of the next day. 

He’s disoriented, his head lost in some kind of space he can’t really point out. He gets up from his bed and hears his stomach growl. It comes as no surprise to him, since he hasn’t eaten anything for almost 24 hours. 

He goes to the kitchen, and there beside the stove lay the ingredients of the pasta dish he was supposed to cook for Jisoo on the day of his death. Upon seeing the ingredients, his chest begins to hurt, as if his heart is being torn from his ribcage. He goes straight to the island and throws all the ingredients to the floor, his throat letting out weird shrieks of pain. He throws them with such force that the pasta noodles break out from the package, and the jars containing tomatoes break, spilling crushed tomatoes on their floor. Jisoo’s absence has never felt too real to Wonwoo until this day; when he realizes no one is going to eat the dishes he will cook, no one will listen to his stories, no one will sing to him when he’s feeling down, no one will embrace him when he’s feeling cold. 

After throwing all the ingredients to the floor, he sets his eyes on their plates and glasses. He feels like the only way he could stop the pain he’s feeling is if he breaks things. So he grabs the ceramic plates forcefully from the racks and almost throws them on the floor; but then, he remembers that those plates were the first things they bought when they moved into their house. 

He places them back on the kitchen island and burrows his head into his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters with his voice shaking. He begins to cry again; he has lost count of how many times he has cried within this week. 

Before he gets lost in his grief again, he hears a knock on his door. 

“Mr. Jeon Wonwoo?” a muffled voice calls. Wonwoo recognizes the voice rather quickly.

“Mingyu? What are you doing here?” Wonwoo asks as he tried to keep his voice from breaking. 

“Well…” Mingyu hesitates for a short while. “I heard your husband was buried today. I was in the area… so I decided to drop by. Can I come in?” 

“You’re always in the area,” Wonwoo says as he unlocks the door. “Come in.”

Mingyu’s tall physique enters through the door of Wonwoo’s home, and Wonwoo himself is quite taken aback by the police officer’s height. “Sorry, I haven’t cooked anything… yet.” 

“That’s okay—“ Mingyu stops when he sees the mess in Wonwoo’s kitchen. “What happened here? Are you okay?” 

Wonwoo purses his lips and speaks. “I had a fit earlier when I woke up. Don’t worry, I’m okay now. I’ll clean it up later.” 

Mingyu walks towards the island and stares more at the mess. “No, let me. This is dangerous. You might end up stepping on this,” he says, his index finger pointing at the big shard of glass from the jar. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“It’s okay.” 

Mingyu grabs the dustpan and carefully puts the big shards on it. He then sweeps the smaller shards into the dustpan with the broom. 

“Where’s your mop?” 

“Hmm… It’s beside the toilet.” 

Mingyu wets the mop and cleans the mess caused by the tomatoes on Wonwoo’s floor. He washes the mop one more time because the fruit pulp got too concentrated and it’ll make more of a mess if he doesn’t wash it. It becomes easier to clean up the second time around. 

“There,” he says. Mingyu’s panting a little, and he’s already sweating. 

“Thank you…” Wonwoo says timidly. 

“By the way… you haven’t eaten dinner yet, right? Do you want me to get pizza?” 

“No, no, no, I’ll order. I feel like you’ve done so much already.” 

“No, it’s okay. Just consider this a gift.” Mingyu then opens his food delivery app and fills out all the details. “This is 134-1 Myeongdong, right?”

“Yeah…” Wonwoo is quite taken aback that Mingyu remembers his address. 

After a few clicks and swipes, Mingyu finishes ordering. “Okay. It’ll be here in 15 minutes. Pepperoni is okay, right?” 

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you… but I do have a question…” 

Mingyu looks towards Wonwoo. “What is it?” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little. “Because you look like you needed a friend. That’s all.” 

Wonwoo has never heard these kind of words from a person before. Not even once in his life. So he stays silent, because he doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Why?” Mingyu asks when he notices Wonwoo’s lack of a response. 

“Why do you want to be my friend?” 

“Because…” Mingyu takes a deep sigh. “Like you, I also lost someone special.” 

Wonwoo opens his mouth in surprise. “What happened? If… it’s okay with you…” 

“Hmm.” Mingyu voice and posture become slightly timid. “I lost my girlfriend to cancer two years ago. Breast cancer. The doctors found out about it in early February, but it’s already too late. The cancer has spread too much. By August she’s gotten too weak. She died in September.” 

“I’m so sorry…” Wonwoo didn’t know what else to say.

Mingyu purses his lips, and speaks. “There was a time when everything just felt so hopeless. I was depressed for months following her death. I got drunk almost everyday, I did drugs, I did all sorts of shit just to escape the reality of her loss. The regrets in my head hunted me down like a pack of wolves. I think about how much time I wasted, of how much of a fool I am for not giving her my best when she was still healthy. My mother saw me when I hit my lowest point, and she cried for me. So I started to seek help from people. I joined this support group.”

“What support group?” 

“There’s this… grief support group I’m attending every Friday evening. We have small group meetings at a church here in the area. No prayers or masses, they’re not really required. People just… speak up and talk about their loss. There’s a lot of talking and listening, but being around people who share the same pain as you do is… kinda comforting, you know?”

Wonwoo stops and stares at the floor. “Can you take me with you?

“Of course. I’ll come by your place Friday, 5 o’clock.” Mingyu says with a smile. Wonwoo smiles back at him; his heart felt at peace with the existence of a person who seems to understand his pain. 

Right then and there, the door bell rings. 

“Pizza’s here!” Mingyu exclaims. 

 

The two boys finish the pizza in no time, with Mingyu and Wonwoo eating four slices each. “Never knew you’re a big eater, too,” Mingyu says after burping. Wonwoo himself is surprised by his appetite. It’s probably because he hasn’t eaten anything in almost 24 hours. 

“That’s my treat,” Mingyu says when he sees Wonwoo pick up his wallet. “Consider that a gift. Anyway… I’m leaving. I still have duty tomorrow. I’ll see you Friday?” 

“Yes.” Wonwoo spends a moment in silence. “Thank you, Mingyu.”

He stands up and leads Mingyu to the door. He unlocks it, and gently gestures for Mingyu to exit. 

Mingyu takes his first step outside, but he immediately turns towards Wonwoo, as if he had something more to say. “Thank you for today. I’m happy to meet a friend like you… Wonwoo…?” 

Wonwoo wheezes when Mingyu stumbles upon his words. Right — they still don’t know each other’s ages. “I was born in 1993.” 

“Oh! I was born in 1994… can I call you Wonwoo hyung?” 

Wonwoo hyung. It has a nice ring to it. “Sure.” Wonwoo hesitates, but he eventually brings his hand to Mingyu’s head. “Good bye, Mingyu.” 

“Bye, hyung!” Mingyu waves at Wonwoo enthusiastically, and Wonwoo tries to give back the same energy. When he sees the younger man go on his own way, Wonwoo closes the door and locks it. He proceeds to his room and lies down on his bed. Without turning off the lights, he falls asleep. 

 

Mingyu gets his phone from his pocket and places a call when he arrives at his apartment.

“Hey, proceed with the plan,” Mingyu speaks as he enters the door. 

“Mingyu? You sure? You got him?” A voice lighter in tone says. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. You know me, I always have my way with words.” 

“You psychopath. Okay, fine. I’ll ask Seokmin to help. Promise me to buy me a bottle of that expensive red wine you always drink. 

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Mingyu answers with a chuckle.

“God, I hate you. That’s why I’ve always wanted to be in recruitment so I won’t have to dig up people’s bodies.” 

“Too bad, Jeonghan hyung, you suck at lying. Anyway. Six o’clock at the new place you rented?” 

“Yeah. I already brought the candles and the dolls to my car. I just hope none of your colleagues find out about the new place! It’s so hard to pay rent!” 

“So kill them if they find out about it again.” Mingyu answers lightheartedly, but he isn’t joking; not at all. When their lair got discovered a few days ago, it caused such a headache for all of them. 

“I’ve already killed too many people this year, so, no thanks,” Jeonghan answers nonchalantly. “Anyway, bye. I’ll call Seokmin about this. If we don’t get to dig tonight, we’ll do it tomorrow night.”

“Have fun!! Hope you don’t soil your nails too much!” 

“Fuck you.” 

Jeonghan hangs up, and Mingyu stares at his phone in amusement. “Fucking incompetent asshole who only knows how to dig.” He then stands up and grabs a can of beer from his refrigerator. He opens it effortlessly and drinks it all in one shot. He stares at the image of the pentagram pinned to his wall and caresses it carefully. 

“Are you ready for your new pawn, Satan?” 

 

Friday comes fast. 

After showering, Wonwoo applies some moisturizer on his face and puts on some concealer to cover the bags under his eyes. He hasn’t slept at all last night. He’s been feeling a constant air of coldness, and he’s been plagued with nightmares. There was one nightmare, two nights ago, where Jisoo appeared in his dream and told him to run away. 

Run away from what? 

After trying so hard to conceal the evidence of his sleeplessness, he takes a white t-shirt with minimal prints and blue jeans from his cabinet. It’s his usual outfit — the comfortable, nonchalant style. He decides to bring his jacket along, because it’s autumn, and it might get cold outside. 

He puts on his watch. It’s already 4:50 in the afternoon. Mingyu should be at his door any second. To kill some time, he sits on the sofa and unlocks his phone. There is a chat message from his mother-in-law, informing him that she has arrived in Los Angeles safely. 

He responds, Thank you, mother. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you off. I’ll come visit you soon. 

Right after he pushes the Send button, he hears the doorbell ring. 

Phone enclosed within his left hand, Wonwoo retrieves his wallet from the sofa and puts his keys in his pocket. He takes one last look at himself in the mirror to fix his bangs before walking towards the door. 

Upon unlocking the door knob, he is pleasantly surprised to see Mingyu smiling so widely, he could see his canines. “Hyung!” Mingyu greets enthusiastically. Wonwoo suppresses his laughter, making him immediately cover his mouth, because the young man in front of him really, really looked like a big dog. 

“What?” Mingyu asks with a slight pout on his face. 

“Nothing. Hi, Mingyu,” he greets quietly after tapping the tall man’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go? It’s really close here, so I think we can walk.” 

The two men walk along the right side of the street, with Mingyu taking the outer lane. Time after time — actually, around twice every minute — their fingers would lightly brush one another because of the proximity of their bodies, and both would feel a jolt of electricity course along their fingers. 

“Oh, a spark!” Mingyu exclaims. Wonwoo just smiles at him, trying not be bothered by that weird sensation that almost made Wonwoo squirm. 

Silence greets them on the way to the place, with Mingyu silently humming songs every now and then. At last, he decides to break the silence. 

“How are you doing, hyung?” 

Wonwoo changes his expression, from one of serenity to one with a hint of sadness. It’s been less than a week since Jisoo’s death, but here he is, walking and strolling outside with another guy to go someplace else that is not home. 

But Wonwoo justifies it in his mind; that one, it is for a support group, and two, Mingyu is nothing more than a friend. 

“I’ve been trying to cope, but it’s too hard.”

Mingyu puts his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, making Wonwoo get tense for a little bit. The taller boy notices it, so he drops his arm. “You’re gonna be fine. You’ll meet so many wonderful people later.” 

The place Mingyu mentioned is a basketball court in one of the elementary schools in the city. The children have already gone home, and the janitors have apparently finished cleaning up, because no one else is there. Wonwoo gazes at his clock: it’s 5:47 in the afternoon. For a meeting that’s supposed to happen at six, it’s strange that there isn’t a single soul at the place yet. 

“Hey, Mingyu? Where are the others?” he asks while looking around the place. Upon noticing that he did not receive an answer to his inquiry, he refocuses his gaze on where Mingyu is supposed to be standing. 

Except that no one is standing there, and Mingyu is nowhere to be found. 

“Mingyu?” He walks hesitantly in the hall. It’s so eerily and disturbingly silent, Wonwoo just wants to go home. “Mingyu, where are you?” 

The quick sound of footsteps begin to resound in the hall. He looks towards the direction of where the sound comes from, hoping to see Mingyu’s tall figure approaching. 

But it isn’t Mingyu. 

It’s a guy dressed in all black with a bloody clown mask attached to his face. The guy begins to laugh hysterically, like a mad clown, and Wonwoo just freezes at the horrific sound. He tries to retreat, but his feet are stuck on the ground as if he was submerged in quicksand. 

The clown keeps laughing, and laughing, and laughing, severely unsettling Wonwoo. Still frozen, the young man’s breaths begin to quicken, while his fingernails are already piercing through the skin of his palm. Suddenly, the clown begins to run towards Wonwoo’s direction. The young man tries to move his feet as his adrenaline levels rise with the sight of the threat running towards him. He finally gains the boost to stand up and run, but after his tenth step, he stumbles into the ground. 

“Fuck!!” 

The sound of the clown’s steps are getting closer and closer, but the steps begin to slow down when he gets behind Wonwoo. Right when he’s about to scream, he feels a blunt force to his head and begins to lose consciousness. 

He’s not entirely sure if he will remember it correctly later on, but he hears another set of footsteps coming from the same direction where the clown came from. He also sees a tall, familiar figure. 

Mingyu? 

He feels thick blood trickle down his temple. Slowly, everything fades to black. 

 

Wonwoo wakes up to the voices of three young men, one of which he recognizes with such clarity. That husky voice, that nasal voice with a bit of a lisp; Wonwoo cannot be wrong, it can only be Kim Mingyu. 

He’s about to call out his name, when he realizes his hands are tied and bound by a rope behind a chair. He feels a slight ringing in his head, most likely caused by the head wound he got earlier. 

“Oh, he’s awake,” one of the three voices says. This one, he cannot recognize, although the voice seemed light and jolly, like that of a child. 

“Oh, really?” another voice says. It hits Wonwoo that this might be the clown that came after him earlier, since their voices had the same timbre. “Finally, we’re getting this bread.” 

“Stop fucking saying that bread thing all the fucking time!” This time, Wonwoo’s sure it’s Mingyu. The guy shuts up at Mingyu’s remarks, and mutters a quiet ‘I’m sorry’. 

“Anyway…” Mingyu says while looking at his nails. “Hi, Wonwoo hyung.” Mingyu looks and sounds utterly casual, as if they just randomly met somewhere, when in fact, Wonwoo has his hands tied at the back of a chair in a place that seems so… uncharted. The fear sends a shiver down Wonwoo’s spine. 

“What the fuck is this?!” Wonwoo shouts as he tries to break free from the rope. 

“Feisty,” the other guy with red hair comments. 

“Shut up, Jeonghan hyung,” Mingyu hisses. 

“Fuck you. You don’t get to say what I want to say.”

Mingyu shoots the guy with a glare, making Jeonghan suddenly run out of breath. He grasps at his neck as if he’s being choked by some insidious force. “S… sorry!” the guy blurts out. Mingyu relaxes his gaze, and the guy named Jeonghan is left panting. 

“Learn your place. I may be younger than you, but I am the supreme of this cult.” The two young men beside him have their heads lowered, while Wonwoo is amazed and terrified of Mingyu’s dominating presence. Just who the fuck is this guy?

Wonwoo looks around the place. It’s very dark; the room only has one window, and even that one has a thin black cloth hovering over it. There are candles everywhere, most of them lit. There are also some jars, and a few dolls with some needles pricked on them. 

Wonwoo knows he’s seen this before, so he scans it from the back of his memory. It suddenly hits him — that article he read a few days ago on the day of Jisoo’s death, the one that featured the Satanic lair — it has the same exact features as this one. Wonwoo gulps his saliva nervously. 

“Anyway… back to our little guest,” Mingyu says with a smile so hauntingly pure, it wrenches Wonwoo’s stomach. “Welcome to our tiny cult. As you know, since we have somehow become friends, my name is Mingyu. His name is Jeonghan, while this guy is Seokmin,” he says as he points to the two boys beside him. “As you may remember, Seokmin’s the one who welcomed you here earlier. Did you like his little surprise?” 

“What do you want?” Wonwoo says glaringly, trying to fight off the sensation of fear he’s been feeling. 

“We want you in,” Seokmin says. “Actually, Mingyu wants you in. He saw that you’re sad and in despair over your husband’s death, so he prepared a bargain that you may not be able to refuse.” 

“W… what bargain?” 

“Bring him out.” 

Seokmin goes to one of the rooms. Wonwoo hears him say something, but he couldn’t really understand what it is. 

Seokmin slowly reaches into the light, and Wonwoo soon notices that he brought a person with him. He freezes and opens his eyes wide in terror when he realizes who it is. 

It’s his husband, Hong Jisoo. He’s alive. 

He’s standing there in front of him, clad in the clothes he was buried in. His hands are also tied behind his back. Wonwoo fixates his gaze on him; the wounds and bruises from the accident are gone, but Wonwoo could make no mistake. It’s Jisoo’s eyes, it’s Jisoo’s nose, it’s Jisoo’s lips. 

“Wonwoo-ya.” 

It’s Jisoo’s voice. 

Wonwoo doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how, but he just starts sobbing. “Oh my god… Jisoo… JISOO!!! JISOO!!!! FUCK LET ME GO!!!!” His tears are wet with tears and his jaw is clenched in frustration as he tried to free himself from the chair. Unfortunately, the rope wrapped around his hands is too tight. He feels his skin burn everytime he tries to move. 

“Calm down, tiger, calm down!” Mingyu motions calmly. “As Seokmin said earlier, I have a bargain—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SICK ASSHOLE!!!!! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!” 

Mingyu takes a deep breath. He walks towards Wonwoo and punches him in the gut. He then pulls on Wonwoo’s hair forcefully, making Wonwoo gasp. “I said. I have a fucking bargain. So. Shut up.” He punches Wonwoo in the gut again, making the young man cough blood. 

Jisoo tries to move towards Wonwoo, but Jeonghan grabs him by the forearm. He just stands there, motionless. 

Wonwoo pants. Mingyu’s two punches decreased his energy significantly, although he’s still conscious. 

“As you can see, we brought your husband back to life. You miss him, right? You want to kiss him again, right, Wonwoo hyung?” 

“You’re sick…” Wonwoo responds, breathless. 

“No, I am not sick. I am a witch serving the Supreme Lord Satan. These two are also witches, though I am a lot powerful than they are,” Mingyu snickers, making Jeonghan roll his eyes. “You know, I found a friend in you. And I know that you found a friend in me. That’s why I’m doing this.” 

“You’re a liar…” 

“Oh… right. Since you mentioned lies, I just wanna clear up something I told you. I don’t have a dead girlfriend. That was just a lie so I could get your trust. I’m gay, you bitch. I’m offended you weren’t able to smell that,” Mingyu says with a sinister smile on his face that Wonwoo finds so terribly unpleasant.

Upon seeing Wonwoo’s lack of response, Mingyu puts his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder. He inches closer and whispers into his ear. “I want you… to join us. To commit to the one and true lord, Satan. In exchange for your services to the cult and to him, I’ll give your husband back to you. Don’t you want that?”

Wonwoo still doesn’t answer. 

“If you refuse… I’m going to kill your husband again, then I’m going to kill you,” Mingyu says, with a knife pointed at Wonwoo’s throat. Wonwoo feels a sharp, slicing pain, and he can feel his warm blood gushing out of the wound. Mingyu isn’t joking. “This time, he’ll die slowly and painfully, and I’ll make sure that you’ll get to watch every fucking second. And then… after I kill both of you, I’m going to chop your bodies into pieces, and I’m going to hang your heads in this room.”

“Fuck you…” Wonwoo says weakly. 

“Can we just kill him?” Jeonghan says while glaring at Wonwoo. 

“Shut up,” he says as he motions for Jeonghan to stop. “Put this asshole on the chair,” Mingyu says while pointing at Jisoo. 

Jisoo tries to resist, but Jeonghan is much stronger than he is. He is immediately put on the big, wooden chair with unique devices on each arm. Jeonghan puts Jisoo’s fingers underneath the devices, and Wonwoo shivers when he realizes what the device will do. 

“So… for every minute you refuse to join us, we’ll take a nail off Jisoo’s beautiful fingers…” 

“FUCK YOU!!!!! FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!” 

Mingyu laughs to himself. “Sorry to break your bubble, but you can’t kill me. Even if you try your hardest, you will never be able to even touch me. Hurry up and decide, Wonwoo… the clock is ticking.” 

“FUCK YOU!!!!!!! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!! FUCK YOU!!!! FUCK—“

“Do it.” 

Jisoo’s loud screams fill the air as Jeonghan takes the device down on him. The nail on his index finger flies off, and blood starts to flow. Jisoo cries and pants, and begs for them to stop. 

“Wow, resurrected people can really feel pain,” Jeonghan comments. 

“Stop, please!!!!! Stop!!!!” Wonwoo screams weakly, his entire face contorted with so much pain. He’s feeling a lot of emotions right now; there are a lot of things to take in. 

“So… Wonwoo? It’s your call,” Mingyu asks with a smile. 

Seeing Jisoo in pain sends Wonwoo in a corner, like a defeated animal. “What do you need from me?” 

“As I’ve mentioned, you have to join our cult. It’s really simple, really. We have to have gatherings every Friday night, and at least once a year, you have to conduct a human sacrifice ritual. We’ve all done it — me, Jeonghan, Seokmin. I’ve offered four people this year. Being in the police force makes it easier for you to murder people, you know? You’ll be exempted for this year, since it’s already November, anyway… So… what do you think? Easy right?” 

Wonwoo is both amazed and horrified at how Mingyu talked about killing people and offering them for a sacrificial ritual as if it’s just like joining a club or a religious organization. 

“The powers will come to you eventually, but they’ll come to you slowly. The more you kill, the more powerful you will become. And of course, once you become more powerful, you’ll be able to perform complex rituals, such as the resurrection ritual I just did on Jisoo.” 

“Is he mute or what? I might end up killing this dude if I take out one more fingernail. He’s too soft,” Jeonghan groans at Wonwoo’s lack of response. Jisoo’s already breathless in his seat, his index finger, now without a nail, shaking violently due to the shock. 

“Okay…” Wonwoo answers quietly. 

“Say it louder,” Seokmin commands. 

“Okay…” 

“Fucking louder!! Bolder!!” Jeonghan is shouting at him. 

“Okay!!!! Fuck!!!!!! Okay!!!!! Are you happy now?!!!!!!” Wonwoo screams, his pupils completely dilated. 

“He snapped,” Jeonghan says with a hint of mockery. 

Mingyu walks closer to Wonwoo and whispers towards his ear again. “That’s a good boy… I’m so proud of you, Wonwoo hyung.” Mingyu goes even closer that Wonwoo starts to feel the young man’s skin. It’s cold and felt like metal, as if Mingyu’s not human at all. “Now… I want you to remember one thing. Don’t ever think of running away. Because I have eyes everywhere. Anywhere you go, whatever you do, whatever you say, I will know. And if you try to escape, I will find you. And I will kill you and your husband. You are Satan’s pawn now… and that should be an honor you should carry your whole life.” 

Wonwoo just nods repeatedly in fear. He made a choice, a choice out of desperation and fear, and that choice now has control over his whole life. 

“Let them go. Jeonghan-hyung, drive them home. I’m off.” Mingyu says as he walks towards the door. Jeonghan and Seokmin mutter displeased sighs. Wonwoo’s hands are released from the grasp of the ropes, and he feels utterly, helplessly weak. He looks toward Jisoo, who’s still in shock over what happened to him. Wonwoo stands up, but his knees fail him. Desperate, he tries to crawl his way towards his husband. Jisoo’s still catatonic, even with Wonwoo grasping for space in front of him.

“Jisoo… Jisoo…” Wonwoo cries. 

In utter melancholy, Jisoo looks towards his husband. His hair is severely disheveled, his face wounded and smeared my dirt, his clothes ruffled. “Wonwoo… why are you crying?” he asks. 

“Jisoo, I’m sorry…” Wonwoo finally reaches Jisoo’s feet. He tries to embrace his waist, but Jisoo shows no response. “I’m so, so, sorry. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry…” 

Jisoo’s lips begin to quiver. Tears begin to fall from the corner of his eyes. His hands reach out for Wonwoo’s back, and he feels melancholy and relief flush over him at the comfort of Wonwoo’s presence. In death, Jisoo saw nothing else but a void so endless and cold. In death, he was alone, and there was no light. 

But now, Wonwoo is here with him, and he is touching him, and he is hugging him. Soon, Wonwoo rises from the ground, and they kiss; a warm, longing kiss, from one alive body to another. 

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo mutters everytime their lips part. “Does it hurt?” He reaches out for Jisoo’s hand, the one with the nail removed. 

“No, I’m okay now.” Jisoo mutters under his breath. 

“We have to go,” Jeonghan says. Jisoo looks at him fearfully, but Jeonghan just glares at him back. “If anyone of you tries some senseless shit on the way home, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

The car ride home is quiet and almost pleasant, if not for the presence of the sadistic witch on the driver’s seat. Jisoo puts his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, and every now and then, he would fall asleep. Wonwoo would gently tap his shoulder, and he would play with his hair. Jisoo feels so real to his touch — no, wait — Jisoo is real. And he’s alive. And breathing. As if nothing happened. As if no funeral took place. 

But in reality, every single thing in their lives has changed. 

“Just drop us off here,” Wonwoo says to Jeonghan. “Okay,” Jeonghan answers nonchalantly. Wonwoo opens the door, and he takes Jisoo with him. “Oh wait, hey, man…” 

Wonwoo tenses at Jeonghan’s voice. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier. We do what we have to do. I hope we can put everything behind us… are we cool?” 

“Cool.” Of course they aren’t cool. What happened earlier was some fucked up shit, but Wonwoo had no choice. He’s trapped. They’re trapped. At least for now. 

“Cool,” Jeonghan says in response. “Anyway, see you next week. Don’t try to run away, Wonwoo. Bad, unimaginable things have happened to people who have tried to run away. What happened today, to both of you… that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Mingyu.” 

Wonwoo takes a deep breath. To experience fear throughout the rest of their lives… are Wonwoo and Jisoo ready for it? 

They have to be. 

 

Upon entering home, Wonwoo and Jisoo take a bath together. Wonwoo helps scrub off the dirt from Jisoo’s body, and Jisoo helps Wonwoo clean himself. They change into their pajamas; Wonwoo feels thankful that he hasn’t thrown all of Jisoo’s belongings after his death. 

They come into the bed, yet they haven’t said a thing to one another. Jisoo’s thoughts are still in disarray, and Wonwoo’s still trying to grasp the situation. They remain seated on the bed for a while, with silence engulfing the seconds that pass by. Jisoo finally wraps his blankets around him and lies down, with his back turned against Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo lets out his deepest sigh, and finally decides to lie down as well. 

“Wonwoo, I’m cold,” Jisoo says weakly as he tugged onto Wonwoo’s shirt. Wonwoo has already fallen asleep, yet he was easily awaken by Jisoo’s actions. 

“Baby, come here.” He wraps his arms around his husband and buries Jisoo’s face into his chest. He pats his head gently. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Jisoo’s hold on Wonwoo’s weight tightens, he inches closer towards Wonwoo’s chest, feeding off the warmth off Wonwoo’s body. That’s one of the things that Jisoo loved about Wonwoo.

Wonwoo continues doing patting Jisoo’s head, until he notices that the smaller man has fallen asleep again. With his arms still wrapped around Jisoo, he closes his eyes and waits for the waves of sleep to come visit him again. 

But before slumber consumes him, he hears a voice. 

“Wonwoo…” 

It isn’t Jisoo’s voice, Wonwoo is sure of it. 

“Wonwoo, my child…”

The voice is abysmal, with a bit of an echo. It’s loud, yet Jisoo isn’t waken up by it. It might be the case that Wonwoo is the only one hearing it. 

Is Wonwoo going crazy?

He gets up carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping Jisoo. His feet scramble towards his slippers, and he stands up. He looks for the source of the voice, but it’s very dark; too dark, that Wonwoo ends up stumbling upon the foot of their cabinet. 

“Who’s there?” He asks while maintaining the strength of his voice. 

“My child, I am here.” 

And then Wonwoo sees it. 

Red eyes, as red as blood, are looking straight into him. Wonwoo is terrified by what he is seeing, yet the creature’s eyes draw him in. Step by step, he moves closer. And then Wonwoo sees the horns; horns like those of a goat, but longer. 

Wonwoo gets down on his knees and bows down in front of the creature. He chants verses he has never known before; the words just spontaneously come out of his mouth. After ten repetitions, he stops, and he looks into the eyes of the creature. 

“My son, I am the one who goes by many names. Centuries have bestowed upon me the names of Leviathan, Lucifer, Nero — but you, my precious child, you can call me Satan.” 

“You are Satan…” Wonwoo repeats mindlessly. 

“And I am your lord…” 

“And you are my lord…” 

“And you will become my instrument…”

“And I will become your instrument…” 

“For the destruction of this world, and the worlds to come.”

“For the destruction of this world, and the worlds to come.”

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S A MESS I KNO I'M SORRY AHAAHAAHA
> 
> anyway it's implied that mingyu played a role in jisoo's death at the start.......... so..... :~) he's already planned this from the very beginning
> 
> the ending..... is open to interpretation
> 
> HEHE


End file.
